Destiny of the Rose
by QueenofMirkwood32
Summary: Aylen Vanimór only desires to be freed from the grief of her brothers death. When a messenger rides to her home where the last of the Elves remain, will she have to leave Middle-Earth?
1. Mourning Song

Destiny of the Rose  
  
Written by Kaitlin Kelly  
  
The shimmer of moonlight in the darkened sky caught my sapphire eyes in wonder. Star glinted like broken shards of diamond on a velvet black cloth, winking with white light. Pushing a loose strand of long golden hair from my view, I edged closer to the sound of water, humming softly to myself.  
  
Oh fair moon and lovely evening sky  
  
Call me home to the sound of trees unscorched with lies  
  
Guided by the face of moon above  
Unto you I shall bestow my love  
Twice rung the bell of Elven immortality  
Singing words to soft for Men to see  
  
Coming into sight of a pool of rippling water, I dropped down onto a granite grey ledge. Slowly I let my palm caress the surface, touching the ebb of liquid from a waterfall beside me.  
  
"You shall not be forgotten, Ronathaim," I whispered, pressing my fingertips to my lips and kissing the ruby ring around my thumb. "Tonight's your night." A gust of warm wind fluttered through the canopy of birches, carrying an eerie chord of song to my ears, which curved to a point. The memory of my brother took hold of my sorrow-torn heart and a trail of tears rolled down my cheeks, freezing my emotions in a state of confusion, loss, and love.  
  
"Aylen," a familiar voice suddenly beside my ear hushed, arms falling around me from behind, "don't cry." I looked back into a face of kindness, letting another drop of mourning fall from my eye.  
  
"Litherel," I spoke in a tone of foreboding, "surely you can't be happy that our own flesh and blood has perished?"  
  
"Ronathaim died fighting to keep our woods freed from intrusion," Litherel replied reassuringly, placing a hand on my forehead. "He wouldn't have had it any other way." The glow of her cheeks shone mysteriously.  
  
"He spoke to you," I murmured, reading it in her shamrock eyes. "You talked with Ronathaim before he passed from the realm of the living. Don't try to tell me otherwise; my elf eyes see."  
  
"I won't deny it." Her tone was always comforting, like the sound of mist flowing into the valleys before sunrise, but it changed somewhat when she continued. "A rider from Mirkwood is coming into our midst before the dawn of the next sun. He is not to be feared, as I'm sure you are thinking, but honored with great respect. Though he himself is not a threat, he brings word of foreign siege. Lord Sargathadril, as you know, won't listen to anyone but his own spies. This will be our downfall."  
  
"How did Ronathaim know of this?" I inquired. Not once in my life had I doubted my brother and sister, and now I found myself in disbelief. "Why didn't he speak of it before?"  
  
"He only received word of it during that fatal battle. He meant to tell Lord Sargathandril but was hit with two enemy arrows when he ventured over. This you know. Why do you question what is already understood?"  
  
"Because I do not wish to believe it," I hissed, ascending the rocks that led out from the pond. "And I do not wish to listen anymore, Litherel. Can we put a stop to this unwanted conversation?"  
  
"You have been warned," she said calmly, "so I suppose there is no need to continue if you desire to stop." She brushed past me, silver dress sparkling in the light cast from the moon, and disappeared into the night. I sunk to my knees, feeling the weight of many different things pressing down on my shoulders. Curling the midnight blue folds of my cloak around me, I was gnawed at by Litherel's words like rock being eroded by the constant flow of water. It rubbed away the last bit of comfort I had. He brings word of foreign siege, she had said. This will be our downfall... 


	2. Learning the Future

The sound of quickly padding feet echoed from the ground where I'd lain my head. I whipped a small, curved blade from a scabbard at my hip, wielding it cautiously.  
  
"Who dares to enter the Pool of the Dead on a night reserved for mourning?" I cried, releasing all my anger unto the air.  
  
"You're brave indeed my lady," a male voice said, laughing in such a sincere way that it made a pleasurable shiver slide up my spine.  
  
"May I look upon the face of the one who defies me?" I shouted, glancing around at every shadowed corner. "Or is thee too frightened to take on a woman?"  
  
"I intend to do no such thing, my lady." With that, a slender elf passed into the light and I looked upon a face of unimaginable beauty. His cheeks were flushed from fast-paced movement, causing his lips to dim. He had eyes of deep, fathomless brown that seemed to extend into the divine secrets of his soul, too complex and wondrous to know where to begin. An outfit of earth tones fit well on his full shoulders of which a long wooden bow was slung. Yellow feathers from arrows in a quiver at his back were just visible behind his Elven ears.  
  
"May I consider it appropriate to ask your name?" I questioned, feeling my breath catch in my throat. He laughed again.  
  
"Questions are only granted by those who ask, my fair elf. I am Legolas Greenleaf, heir of Mirkwood Forest. King Thanduil, my father, has a message for your lord." I lowered my head in a bow, only looking up when he placed his hand under my chin and tipped it upward.  
  
"Forgive me for unsheathing my dagger at you, Prince of Mirkwood," I breathed, feeling reluctant when his arm fell away. "I did not know any better."  
  
"Do not worry," he said, turning away from me to peer into the marvels of the sky. "And I would rather you call me Legolas. I want not to be looked on as a prince, especially by you. Now, would you risk giving me your name?"  
  
"Aylen Vanimór of the Woodland Realm," I replied, starting back towards my home. As I had hoped, he lingered by my side.  
  
"Whom were you mourning?" he asked finally, looking slightly guilty for having to touch upon such a topic.  
  
"My brother, Ronathaim. He was shot down by arrows during a battle for our woods last night." Legolas stared at the Earth for a long moment. When he raised his head, he placed a warm hand on my shoulder and whispered,  
  
"That is only the beginning. More will come. Too many secrets have been told to those who desire power. Do you know what lies in this forest?"  
  
"I have no memory of hearing anything," I replied, throwing a few glances behind me to be sure that we were alone.  
  
"Elves call it Ambalotsë, but others named it the Rose of Immortality."  
  
"And what does this Rose of Immortality that you speak of do?" I asked, peering into his face. The blue glow of the moon sent light flickering across his perfectly curved cheekbones, leaving a dim shadow across the bridge of his nose.  
  
"If but one Man comes in contact with the Ambalotsë, the world will fall to ruin."  
  
"How?" I questioned, my fingers suddenly flying to the knife at my side. "Why would I have such a tool in my woods?" He laughed again, this time in a low and colder way.  
  
"That is a good thing to ponder, Aylen, but even I do not know the answer. Nor have I come to find why it was made in the first place. I believe it was merely a mistake. As for how the Ambalotsë causes such ruin, it grants anyone who touches it life to the end of the earth."  
  
"I don't understand," I snapped, "why if only one Man lays a finger on this ruby flower that the world will fall to ruin. Why should we care if one Man lives on for centuries? Elves do."  
  
"Ah, but with this one Man will turn into many more Men, sending immortality through the bloodlines of his race until they become like elves themselves. The race of Man cannot deal with this much power; they are drunk with it as it is, just as they were about the One Ring. It will poison their minds, down to the last child. Worldwide war will be waged on all the lands, whether it be here or the Minas Tirith of Gondor."  
  
"How do you propose to fix this problem, Legolas?" I glared up into his eyes, all feeling of confusion melting away.  
  
"The Ambalotsë needs to be carried to the land across the sea," he murmured. "Only elves dwell there, they will look after it."  
  
"Legolas," I said softly, stopping so that I could turn to face him, "why are you telling me this? I am nothing but a young woman with a heart full of sadness. What would you have me do?" He traced my chin with his fingers, his expression changing into one of compassion.  
  
"You are brave indeed, Aylen, but your knowing mind is clouded with doubt. Do you trust me?"  
  
"You have given me no reason not to," I replied, tears welling in the corners of my eyelids. "Though I have only lain my gaze on you for minutes I feel as if I have do so for all the years of my life."  
  
"Your emotions are shared," he whispered, his footsteps falling softly on the leaf-strewn earth. My body carried me with him on its own accord. "Have you not noticed how the flowers bloom when you come nearest them?" A look of astonishment crossed my face.  
  
"I thought I was only day-dreaming." He pointed serenely to a cluster of lilacs blowing in the cool evening breeze. Though it was dark when all the blossoms should have been shut for the night, they were opened with deep purples and unsoiled whites. "If an elf possesses such a power, then it is their duty to return to Ambalotsë to its original home of Eressëa," he said, taking my hands in his.  
  
"Will I have to go alone?" I asked, fear coursing through my veins. He grinned, the pearly whites of his teeth flashing through the shadows.  
  
"I will be joining you," he replied, settling all my frights with a few soft-spoken words. The more I peered into his gentle eyes, the more I wanted to have his arms around me. To feel the strength of his chest against mine sent a shiver through my body even to just wandering across the idea.  
  
"The ships will leave in a weeks time," he said, stopping where the trees ended at a clearing full of light and song. "In order to arrive on time we need to leave tomorrow night, just after the fall of the sun. I'll find you. Farewell." With a slight hesitation, he held my hand in his before setting off to the Palace where he would find Sargathandril. Sighing lightly, I walked down the rise to my home, filled once again with sorrow as I head the melodic sound of mourning floating along the wind. 


	3. Leaving Tears

"You can't honestly be considering leaving with this messenger from Mirkwood?" Litherel asked exasperatedly, following me outside as I strapped my pack to my black mare, Andúnë.  
  
"I must, Litherel. It's the only way." Andúnë shook out her mane as I climbed up into the saddle, pawing the ground in happiness to be moving. "You must understand, I don't have another choice."  
  
"When will you be returning?" she asked, her voice becoming distinctively more pained. A tear fell down my pale cheek, falling onto my hands. In entirety I had no idea when I was going to see her again. I didn't even know if I'd ever get the opportunity to gaze into her eyes anymore. "Aylen?"  
  
"Don't worry, Litherel. Think of me after the dawning of the sun and expect to see me on the horizon." She placed a hand on my knee and whispered,  
  
"Nai moina." With a curt nod of promise, I pressed my feet into Andúnë's side as coaxed her into a soft trot. Feeling the wind in my hair brought back memories of riding through the meadows with my brother as he told me of his travels in Gondor and Rohan. Though it was true that we were some of the last remaining clans of elves in Middle-Earth and we often stayed in our woods, leaders such as my brother ventured out into the wider world. Hooded cloaks were worn as not to attract attention to ourselves in cities when only the race of Man lived.  
  
"I thought I told you I'd find you?" Legolas's cool whisper said near my ear. I started, not expecting to see his face so close to mine.  
  
"I couldn't wait, heir Prince," I answered, trying not to look embarrassed at how he'd caught me off-guard. He glared ahead of himself, readjusting his position atop the saddle of his white stallion.  
  
"Will you ever learn to call me by name, Aylen?" He said sadly, shaking his head with a sigh.  
  
"What road will we be taking, Legolas?" He smiled, gesturing down a path of flattened grass leading south. The sunlight fell through the boughs of birches, casting shadows and light along the trail.  
  
"There's a harbor that way," he replied. "Our path should not be dangerous. Should it turn ill, you seem quite gifted with a sword." I hid my blush. "I offer you a bow, if you feel gracious enough to take it?" He slid an intricate curve of white wood from somewhere near his side, placing it over my shoulder. I held my gaze on his fingers as they grazed my arm slowly, suppressing the urge to press my hand against his toned leg.  
  
"Thank you," I breathed, taking a quiver of white-feathered arrows that he lay on my lap. "We ought to leave if we want to get the rose."  
  
"Aylen!" someone cried behind me, but I had already pushed Andúnë into a gallop. Looking back through the sheet of golden hair flying behind me, I saw Litherel watching me go with sparkling eyes. Her dress of red silk whipped about her in the wind, as tears poured over her face. All I could do was wait until she'd shrunk into the trees standing between us... 


End file.
